Between the Lines
by IvyXLacrimosa
Summary: Whether they realized it or not, things were beyond repair . That didn't mean they couldn't try to convince themselves otherwise . One-Shot KiKuro AoKi Shounen-ai Fluff Teikou Days


**Title: **Between the Lines

**Fandom: **Kuroko no Basket

**Pairing: **KiKuro [Kise Kuroko], One-Sided AoKi [Aomine Kise]

**Characters: **Kuroko, Kise, Aomine, Momoi [Mentioned], Murasakibara [Mentioned]

**Words: **3,200 [Approximately]

**Genres: **Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship

**Rated: **T

**Warnings: **Hints of Shounen-ai

**Summary: **Whether they realized it or not, things were beyond repair. That didn't mean they couldn't try to convince themselves otherwise though.

* * *

It was to the point where he wasn't sure what he was doing anymore. He couldn't turn around without seeing someone else walk away, and couldn't get anyone to listen to him. Yet he knew he wasn't in the most pain, wasn't suffering the most because of it.

That didn't make the silence any less biting.

The sweat that dripped from his face was cold now that he'd stopped running, but he didn't bother to wipe it off. He still felt the remnants of warmth from his extra work, but it was more like the fading of a setting sun then a fire being doused. It was a slow transition that sapped him of any energy he had, but he didn't really care.

His old worn basketball felt familiar in his hands, and he couldn't help but clench his hands around it. In the coldness this gym now held for him, the ball was like a talisman against the chills he got from being in here.

It didn't help that he was the only one still in the building, and, likely, on the school grounds. He had a habit of staying too late, even when there wasn't a point, and he'd been left locked in the gym before. No one else stayed late with him anymore; they'd stopped working extra with him months ago.

He walked quicker, banishing his longing filled thoughts with unusually quick strides, the ball held loosely against his side. He'd left his things in the locker room luckily, so he wasn't forced to linger any longer than necessary in the gym.

The door closed quietly behind him, and he knew that a janitor somewhere in the school would notice the lights and turn them off—that is if they were still in the school. Since he hadn't been locked in though, he knew that there was a janitor somewhere.

Darkness welcomed him as he walked to the locker room in the next building (Teikou, despite its many gyms, wouldn't build an equal number of locker rooms, and had spaced them accordingly) and a chill quickly crept over him. He didn't show his discomfort though, for really, it wasn't that bad.

This cold was nothing compared to some of the other trepidations he'd endured.

A soft sigh escaped the middle school boy as he pushed open the door to the locker room, entering the dark space without turning the light on. He closed the door quietly, and then turned to walk to where his things still waited for him.

As he easily opened the lock and his locker, he was scared by a voice that sounded behind him. He jumped higher than he would normally due to the lack of people he'd expected in the whole school, and the familiarity of the voice.

"Ah, I forgot that you stayed late, Kurokocchi," the quiet voice of one of his teammates whispered. Kuroko Tetsuya clutched at his basketball tightly, and turned to blink his rather large blue eyes at the direction the first string member's voice had echoed from.

Like most things in Teikou, the locker rooms were large and grand. The members of the first, second, and third strings all kept their things in the room during the practices, so it was row upon row of lockers, a hundred of them at least. Polished and gleaming, they created an odd sort of atmosphere in the room. The perfectly painted concrete underfoot sucked the warmth out of you, and the lights overhead hovered like dark wraiths.

As Kuroko turned, he noticed for the first time the reason the lockers seemed so shiny, and the room so easily navigable. Off to his right, the door leading to the clubroom where they watched tapes was open, and a ghastly flickering light came from it.

His bag long forgotten on the bench behind him, Kuroko shut his locker quietly, turning and walking over to the doorway. His hand settled lightly on the frame as his brow furrowed.

The outline of a hunched over boy seated in a chair greeted him, the boy's golden hair a halo because of the light in front of him. The TV used for review and strategizing—though these days it was more a less useless—played white static, but the sound was off, casting an eerie silence over the room's occupants.

It was only when the head of the room's first dweller turned just slightly, and the impish glint of an earring could be seen, did Kuroko answer back to the surprisingly soft voice.

"Kise-kun." It was simple really, a whispered exclamation because of surprise. Yet it made Kise turn his head to look fully at his teammate. His eyes were tired looking and his shoulders were slumped as gravity was too much, and his expression was far off, as if he wasn't really seeing Kuroko.

"I remember this game," Kise started without preamble, "Like it was yesterday." He pushed a button on the remote in his hand and both boys' watched intently as the screen flashed through with color: red, purple, green, yellow, and blue. A tiny chuckle escaped Kise, though it sounded off. "I suppose it wasn't that long ago though, maybe a few months ago."

Kuroko entered the room, closing the door behind him out of habit, and made his way over to the blond second-year. Grabbing a chair and moving it so he would be seated next to Kise, the blue haired boy sat quietly, watching his friend's face as the tape rewound.

The bags under the model's eyes made him look exhausted, and there was a glazed quality to his gaze that made Kuroko wonder if Kise hadn't slept well for a while. Kuroko's fingers absentmindedly traced his basketball, and the little sixth man for Teikou felt a frown touch his lips.

At practice that day, Kise had performed just as well as usual after he'd dealt with the typical hoard of girls blocking him from the gym. He'd been just as overwhelmingly social as always, and had enthusiastically cheered when their coach had told them about the semifinals of Nationals in the upcoming week.

He hadn't looked bothered by anything, but now, it was as if he was an entirely different person.

"It was right after I first got promoted to first string, remember Kurokocchi?" The blond had stopped the beginning of the match tape. Lined up were the Teikou's newly crowned Generation of Miracles, and a team that looked as if they wanted nothing more than to run. "Haizaki had just been kicked off the team," he added in a whisper, looking away as something dark flared in his eyes.

None of them had fond memories of the former starter, and they were all glad when Akashi had forced him off the team. The gray haired boy would not be missed, and it had made them, the soon to be known as Generation of Miracles, grow stronger. It was the start of something monstrous, overwhelming, and devastating.

"During my first game," Kise whispered, watching as the ball was easily snatched at the jump by Murasakibara, who didn't even leave his feet. Neither of them were really watching. Kise had leaned back and closed his eyes, and Kuroko watched intently, more confused than anything. Whenever the screen would flash brighter, or with some different color, Kise's eyes would move, flickering as if he was watching it beneath his eyelids.

A sudden thought occurred to the blue haired boy. "How long have you been watching tapes in here?" Kuroko asked softly, tilting his head and leaning forward just slightly to get a better look at the blonde's face.

Golden eyes peered at him from between long lashes, and Kise quickly averted his eyes. "I've only watched this one, and I've been here since everyone else left for home." There as an uncertain hesitance to his words that had Kuroko wavering.

His mind quickly did the math anyway though, and he blinked once with surprise when he realized Kise had likely watched the video three or four times. As he watched, something nostalgic blossomed in Kise's expression, easy and longing filled.

"I think this was my favorite game," he whispered, "the game where I got to play _with_ Kurokocchi and Aominecchi and everyone for the first time. I'm not sure if anything has come close to it since. I was just so… _ecstatic._" The word was breathlessly uttered, as if Kise had just finished a set of sprints for a lack of good performance. "Basketball's the only thing that ever gets me excited," he admitted, leaning his chin into the palm of his hand.

"During the beginning of the season," Kuroko replied in affirmation, nodding his head a little as he turned his attention back to the game. The beaming smile of Aomine greeted him, and he saw his own answering smile soon after. Kise popped on screen just a second later, giving both the boys high-fives before he set off down the court energetically. The blonde's grin was undoubtedly the brightest.

"Aominecchi smiled more back then," Kise whispered as if he hadn't meant to say it out loud, eyes following the power forward's smile sadly. "Was it really all that long ago that I challenged him one on one every day?"

An automatic excuse escaped the lips of Kuroko. "Your modeling work _has _kept you from staying late recently. Aomine-kun's been forced into extra study lessons with Momoi-san as well due to his grades." A soft snort escaped Kise that sounded more like the normal blond.

Sinking into his chair further, Kise rubbed a hand over his face. "I want to play Aominecchi," he whined, a slight pout forming on his lips as he complained. "He keeps brushing me off though," those words were said quietly as the blond slipped back into his pensive mood.

There was almost something mesmerizing about watching the anxiety the blond emitted, and Kuroko wasn't sure why. Was it because he'd never seen Kise _serious _unless it was during a basketball game? As the blue haired boy thought, the more he came to the conclusion that Kise hadn't ever been this serious before. It actually unnerved him a little bit.

"He just keeps complaining about how _boring _it all is lately. He keeps giving me excuses and brushing me off," Kise absentmindedly admits, turning to Kuroko. "Have you talked to him lately?"

At the question, Kuroko frowned subtly. An instinctive reaction was for him to search through recent memories, even if he already knew the answer to the blonde's question. The phantom sixth man shook his head softly, averting his eyes indifferently as he looked at the screen. "I have not spoken to Aomine-kun in several days. He has skipped school and been quiet at practice."

Yet thoughts of former conversations and the recollections of past conversations had Kuroko tightening his hands on the basketball in his lap. The constant resigned look in his friend's eyes, and the lack of passion lately made Kuroko worry over his best friend incessantly.

A soft hum escaped Kise's pursed lips, and he leaned his head lightly on his own shoulder, curling up a little more. It made the blond look surprisingly small and uncertain, and for the first time, Kuroko wondered if he really knew the boy at all.

"He's been playing amazing lately, hasn't he?" Kise mused, and a bit of something akin to reverence and awe flashed in his eyes. Fingers drummed across folded up knees, and the blond seemed to become restless. "Aominecchi's really scary sometimes," he whispered.

As Kuroko watched the screen, Aomine easily drove past two defenders, the ball changing hands with an easy and quick flip of a wrist, before the tanned boy leaped up and slammed the ball into the hoop one handed. Though he was still smiling, it looked a little more subdued.

"If even Kurokocchi can't talk to him, then he must really be upset about how Nationals are going," Kise said, referencing the past games in which the ease Teikou won at grew stronger and steadier. Setting the remote on the arm of his chair, the blond pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped and arm around them.

As the small forward nestled his chin onto his legs, he hummed under his breath. "The first thing I learned about basketball from Teikou was that victory comes first for us. Before that though, Aominecchi taught me how to love it."

Something bright and passionate gleamed in Kise's eyes, and Kuroko watched. He was enraptured by the blonde's words, but his heart grew colder with each syllable that left the boy's lips. Something about Kise's speech was breaking something in Kuroko that he didn't know he'd ever built.

A wall of denial.

"Kurokocchi," the blond caught the blue haired boy's attention with his hoarsely uttered name. "I'm scared that I'm forgetting what it feels like to love basketball," the blond swallowed, "I don't want to feel like I'm losing every time we win."

Kuroko flinched subtly, averting his now slightly widened eyes as he considered the words. Now plagued with the title Generation of Miracles, which was steadily becoming more widespread and popular, they were expected to win. Even their opponents believed that the talented boys' would win, and something in that was almost heartbreaking. It wasn't a game, it was a routine.

What was the point of even walking on the court, then, if they were just expected to demolish everything in their path? Was basketball not a competitive game?

"I believed once that the concept of separation was something that all players must understand and accept," Kuroko responded slowly, and golden eyes watched him with tired curiosity and attentiveness. "Because our lives outside of the court are something that should not affect how we proceed on it," a flutter of nervousness had Kuroko licking his lips, though his expression stayed unchanged. "I think that our passion for basketball, what has driven us to utilize our gifts and strengths, is something that most do not have. That rare combination of drive and… talent, is something few can keep up with."

Kise was watching him, hanging onto his every word like it was a lifeline, and maybe it was. Kuroko wasn't sure why, but the thought scared him immensely.

"Basketball has become so deeply imbedded in us, Aomine-kun especially, that losing it means losing a piece of our lives. What are we to do with ourselves, when we've dedicated so much time to something that we become unrivalled? Simply create a reputation that scares many away?" The last questions were almost bitter, despite Kuroko's typical monotone, and they were whispered as if they caused him pain.

"Aominecchi is too far ahead," Kise finished quietly, realizing the point that Kuroko was trying to hint at. The blond gripped the fabric of his sweatpants tighter, the dark gray fabric wrinkling under his hold. "Do you think…" he started, brow furrowing, "That if I can catch up… he'll stop leaving so much?"

It was in that moment, in that softly, desperately spoken question that Kuroko realized how deeply Kise's admiration went. It was no longer simple respect, though he knew Kise's still held Aomine in very high regard, but adoration that surpassed friendship. It explained Kise's odd questions and even stranger behavior: Kise wasn't just scared for himself; he was scared for Aomine too.

A breathless sort of surprise passed through Kuroko, but it was quick to fade and easily accepted. He answered Kise's small inquiry as honestly as he could.

"I believe that Aomine-kun would slow and turn to face us again," Kuroko admitted, "If any of us would catch up to him." Rolling the words around in his head, Kuroko tacked on one last thought that slipped out without him meaning to say it. "Aomine-kun is more scared than we are."

That admission was part of the overflow when that wall of denial had crumbled, and as Kuroko thought about it, the more amazed he was. It was spiraling out of proportion so fast. Hadn't it been just yesterday when he'd been eating ice cream with Aomine, Momoi, and Kise? Wasn't it just days ago when Aomine had talked to him and stayed late with him after practice?

Yet it hadn't been just yesterday, hadn't been just days before. This was a process of detachment that had taken weeks, maybe months. It was a slow build, just like the points they'd beaten opponents by, or the amount of practice Aomine was beginning to skip.

Now Kise was staring at him, wide eyed, and he sniffed lightly as he buried his head in his knees. Something akin to guilt bloomed in his expression, and he let his gaze drift back to the screen. The score difference in the game was widening, a slow crack becoming a vast divide all too quickly.

"Aominecchi's scared," the blond boy repeated, brows furrowing. "He…he's loved it a lot longer than the rest of us, hasn't he?"

Kuroko blinked at the question, and the way the blond was so openly concerned for their blue haired teammate. Slowly Kuroko nodded in response, "Momoi-san once told me that he's played basketball longer than she's known him."

A slow shudder made its way through Kise, and Kuroko watched as he turned, and, without preamble, dropped his head on Kuroko's shoulder. It was a light touch, the blonde's forehead barely resting on Kuroko's shoulder, and it was the only place Kise touched him. It was different than all the times the boy had ran up and hugged Kuroko after he'd gained Kise's respect.

It was a touch that begged for reassurance: self-conscious and hopeful.

Kuroko reached around Kise to pick up the remote, careful not to jostle the boy, and then responded finally. "We have never sat within anyone's boundaries. We break them and do the unexpected," unsure of what he was saying was enough to help calm Kise, the blue haired boy lightly set a hand on Kise's head, as if comforting a child. "Who is to say we'll hate it, or if we'll always be undefeated?"

Wiry blue eyes drifted back to the TV, and a fond smile curled his lips, eyes more bright than anyone had ever seen. "And you know how Aomine-kun is. He plays not to win or lose, but to simply enjoy, and he rarely stays within the limits people expect him to have."

On screen, the tanned teen had leapt around a defender, hovering over the out of bounds line for a second before shooting the ball. It sailed over the backboard, spinning rhythmically, before dropping to the rim and rolling around it just once. It fell in cleanly as Aomine landed out of bounds.

Kuroko turned off the TV, and turned to Kise, but found the blond had drifted to sleep on his shoulder, face more relaxed than Kuroko had ever seen it.

So the phantom smiled, because even if his words were nothing more than wishful thinking and what ifs, it that was all he had to give. It had calmed Kise down, and for now, Kuroko was calm as well.

Because they could still hope they were wrong.

* * *

**_A/N: _**Been a while since I posted anything, hasn't it? Lost my internet, started school, gotten sick. Blech. Anyway, one-shots like this have been on my mind for a while, so I thought I'd put them all in one place~ Enjoy~


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